


crush

by liadan14



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Established Relationship, Flirting, Fluff, It's okay because Joe also has a crush, Joe and Nicky being trolled by the dead sea, Joe is extremely handsome, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Nicky has a crush, Nicky is weak for it, soft, the most established relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 01:53:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28555671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liadan14/pseuds/liadan14
Summary: Yusuf's head cocks to the side. "Is that it?" He asks, sliding one gentle finger under Nicolò's chin.Nicolò's breath stutters on an exhale.When Yusuf kisses him, his hands are clammy and clumsy, grasping for Yusuf. His mouth is unsure, open to whatever Yusuf wants from him. And his heart, his heart pounds and pounds and pounds.OR: Nicky never really gets over having a crush on Joe, no matter how long they're together.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 114
Kudos: 823





	crush

The first body of water they come across, after leaving the battlefields of Jerusalem behind, is an unfortunate shock. Nicolò is parched, desperate after the hot trek, after not daring to take more than one sip at a time from his water-skin, and here they are, at a dazzling lake, so beautiful he had thought it was a mirage at first, only to find it undrinkable.

It takes Nicolò long moments of disappointment and even longer moments of spitting every drop of the liquid out of his mouth to note that apparently, Yusuf had more pressing desires than thirst. By the time Nicoló becomes aware of him, he has stripped himself of his clothes, laid his scimitar atop them as if Nicolò had not tried to kill him less than a day ago, tried and failed, and waded into the water.

It is a nasty shock, then, that he finds himself buoyed to the surface no matter how often he tries to get below the water to clean the filth and blood from his skin.

Nicolò knows he would be sputtering, choking on the salt, but Yusuf - Yusuf is laughing, a great, warm sound shaking his entire chest as he struggles to keep his balance in the recalcitrant water. His eyes still crinkle with it as he makes for the shallows, and Nicolò -- Nicolò has to look away from the warmth of his eyes, from the beauty of his hands as he grasps handfuls of wet sand from the bottom of the lake to scrub the filth from his skin, leaving it shining and wet and clean.

Nicolò knows full well how the water tastes, by now, but as they head north for the river Jordan, he can't help but wish to lick the white lines of salt from Yusuf's skin where the water has dried and left it behind.

* * *

Walking beside the river has its upsides and downsides.

It is good, that Nicolò can drink whenever he chooses to, now. It is nice to cool his skin in the water in the evenings, where it has gone red and cracked under the sun.

It is nicer still that Yusuf shakes his head and tuts and grasps the large, prickly-looking leaves on the aloe plant and cuts them open to rub their juices into Nicolò's skin.

"How can you stand to touch me?" He asks Yusuf in his very poor Greek, the only language in common between the two of them, the first time he does it. "After what I have done." He thinks of Jerusalem, of blood running in streams down the cobblestones.

Yusuf's smile is a crooked, soft thing that would look harsh on a face less handsome than his. On him, it simply looks gentle. "You do not seem all that monstrous, now," is all he says, but there is humor in his voice.

The river has upsides, indeed.

By the second day, Yusuf has sweated through his only tunic, and he has pulled it off and tied it to a turban round his head in a clever feat of tucks and knots with his graceful fingers. Nicolò itches to remove his own undershirt, but he knows the sensitive skin of his back and belly are all the better for the protection and he has already tied the remains of his own tunic haphazardly around his own head.

The problem in this is really only that Nicolò has now born witness twice to the beauty of Yusuf's hands. The problem is that Yusuf's bare chest, gleaming with sweat in the blazing sun, is perfect, lined with dark curls of hair and formed obscenely perfect with muscle.

The problem is that the heat in Nicolò's cheeks cannot only be attributed to the sun.

* * *

In Damascus, they pause their journey for the first time. It is the rare city in the area not utterly devastated. Nicolò sticks out, of course, but he remains behind Yusuf, allows Yusuf to speak for them both, and finds he is comfortable being invisible.

Invisible to all but one, that is.

When Yusuf emerges from the first bathhouse he found (and immediately stormed with a cry of delight), his beautiful beard has been shaved close and his lustrous curls cropped short. "It does wonders for the soul," he tells Nicolò earnestly, coming over to take his place beside their paltry belongings. "I will watch our things while you go." So close, he smells of patchouli.

"Besides," Yusuf adds with a wink. "I'd like to see what you look like, under all that beard."

It takes nearly the entire bath and shave for Nicolò to calm his racing heart.

* * *

In Baghdad, Nicolò catches sight of the cut of Yusuf's hipbones as he struggles into his trousers one morning and nearly swallows his own tongue.

The remainder of their trip east, he has to watch his words so as to not let slip how badly his companion affects him.

* * *

In Tehran, Yusuf has grown weary of Nicolò's reticence, of his blushes and glances aside, and demands to know, eyes blazing, how he has offended.

Nicolò can't help but stare at the tense ball of his fist, at the cord of his forearm, at the bulge of his upper arm against the fabric of his shirt, the depth of his gaze.

"You could never offend me," he says, mindless. His cheeks are hot - again - and his pulse is picking up, and if it were anyone else, Nicolò would be happy to tell himself that he will outlive this foolish, coltish adoration, that he will live until everything he knows is dust and that an embarrassment in the here and now will surely fade in time. Unfortunately, Yusuf is the only man whom he will not outlive, and so he must suffer this and hope to be rejected with some dignity.

Yusuf's head cocks to the side. "Is that it?" He asks, sliding one gentle finger under Nicolò's chin.

Nicolò's breath stutters on an exhale.

When Yusuf kisses him, his hands are clammy and clumsy, grasping for Yusuf. His mouth is unsure, open to whatever Yusuf wants from him. And his heart, his heart pounds and pounds and pounds.

* * *

In Isfahan, Yusuf helps the inn's stable boy with the horses. He strips off both his shirts in the sun, and Nicolò trips on his own feet, spilling the water he had meant to bring Yusuf down his own shirt.

Yusuf's grin is wolfish. "You will have to take it off, then," he says.

* * *

In Cairo, they run out of money and Nicolò has to play cards to keep their room. He is terrible at games of chance, but he does alright at keeping his thoughts to himself and can win at cards with a good hand and a bit of luck.

His hand is little more than alright, and he resigns himself to sleeping under the stars.

Then, of course, Yusuf catches his eye from across the room and winks, and Nicolò's entire face flushes.

His opponents, taking it for a tell, resign their hands, leaving Nicolò the winner.

"I don't appreciate you using me like that," Nicolò huffs later into Yusuf's skin, burying the heat of his face into Yusuf's shoulder even as he buries his cock into Yusuf's ass as deep as he can go, pushing him up against the headboard of the bed that is theirs for one more night.

Yusuf throws his head back and moans in delight. "Use me back?" He suggest, throwing Nicolò another wink over his shoulder.

* * *

In Venice, at carnival, Yusuf is Giuseppe in a fox-faced mask and leggings so tight Nico cannot form complete thoughts. They dance, together, for once, under cover of the chaos carnival brings, and Nico's knees are weak for long moments after he's been released from Giuseppe's strong grip.

"I mean this in the nicest way," Quynh tells him, passing him a glass of something cold and strong, "but you are truly pathetic."

Giuseppe smiles at him over the shoulder of the young woman he is currently spinning across the dance floor and Nico's stomach flutters.

* * *

In Montpelier, Nico is making quiche, kneading the dough carefully by hand.

Joseph pokes his head into the kitchen. "Will it be long, my love?" He asks. His hair is wet from the rain outside. It's longer than it has been in a while, the soft curls begging to be touched. He's taken off his coat, but his shirt is just wet enough to show the lines of his chest beneath.

Belatedly, Nico realizes he is still holding a ball of dough in his hand and that there was a question in there. "I'm sorry," he says. "What?"

Joseph grins at him, slow and devastating. Heat pools in Nico's chest, in the pit of his stomach.

"For fuck's sake, when is dinner?" Booker groans from behind Joseph. "I'm starving, flirt later."

* * *

In Manchester, Joe comes back from grocery shopping and, as soon as he has deposited the bags, he picks Nicky up in his arms and spins him around. "I missed you, my heart," he says, with a kiss to the edge of Nicky's cheek.

Nicky's dizzy when he's released, heart pounding, cheeks flushed. His hands are slow to release Joe, stroking softly along his ribs. The warmth of Joe's skin is as welcome as always.

The quirk of Joe's smile, soft and crooked, makes him flush as they let go.

"You're cute and all," Nile says, groaning at the weight of the remaining groceries. "But haven't you been dating for, like, a thousand years?"

* * *

"I can't believe Nicky's still like this," Nile groans, stuffing another roasted marshmallow into her mouth. Nicky's stuttering - actually stuttering - because Joe flexed for him. It would be douchey, if he didn't do it so transparently to fluster Nicky.

Andy stabs a marshmallow from the package with way too much intensity. "Eh," she says. "Wait for it."

"Huh?"

"Keep watching," she says, staring intently at her marshmallow as she turns it slowly over the fire.

On the other side of their little campsite, Nicky is shaking his head ruefully, running a hand through his hair. He says something, but it's too quiet for Nile to hear. Probably _you menace_ , or whatever that is in Italian.

He turns, then, to pick up more firewood, and Joe--

Joe follows the movement of his body with eyes that are more eager than hungry, the stretch of his pants over his thighs, the tightening of his biceps as he picks up the wood.

"Come on, then," Nicky says, giving Joe that nice little smile he has, and Joe--

Joe's cheeks flush and he rubs his suddenly sweaty hands on the sides of his pants before he comes over to sit with the rest of them.

Nile blinks.

"Ugh," she says. "I will never find love."

Andy thunks their half-melted marshmallows together in a toast.

**Author's Note:**

> You know that meme where Andy Dwyer's like "Aw, babe, you had a crush on me? That's embarrassing." And April's like "we're married."? Yeah, that. That's this fic.
> 
> Based on [this kinkmeme prompt](https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/9603.html?thread=3223683#cmt3223683).
> 
> Yes, the Jennifer Paige song was playing in my head the entire time I was writing it.
> 
> I'm on [tumblr](http://bewires.tumblr.com).


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